Looking around the field, he sees everything which needs to be done. He would like to talk to Gil but knows there are other more important matters. And who knows, maybe later he can find the time to talk to Gil. As well as to learn why the standard fell. But back to the matters on hand, he knows how he will deal with them.
"Secure the prisoners and take away all their weapons. Check their camps for anything dangerous."
A few cavalrymen ride away. So they took up his order. He has to admit, he did not assign anyone to it. They do not get far. A voice speaks up beside him and they stop immediately.
"Steward Denethor, if you do not mind we will handle the prisoners."
He turns his head toward the voice. A Rohirrim sits on his horse beside him. The Rohirrim is wearing his armor like all of them. He is older, maybe in his forties. He has a round shield at his side as well as a black horn. His hair is golden reminiscing of typical Rohirrim. Just like his blue eyes. His posture strong as well as his body. All signs this Rohirrim is powerful and relatively well off.
He frowns looking at the man. He is familiar to him but he cannot remember his name. It is on the tip of his tongue and yet still elusive. He tries to remember his name. A few come to his mind; Elfhelm and Erkenbrand. But which one belongs to the Rohirrim, he cannot tell. He shakes his head. It is not a matter for him to dwell on. He can ask about it later.
But what will he do with the offer? He believes to make good use of it. It will not deplete him of those few cavalrymen he has available. The Rohirrim have more men available. Even if they have had more casualties than he has experienced. So it would be in his best interest to accept.
"Alright, if you want to deal with the prisoners I will not stand in your way."
"Thank you, steward Denethor."
The Rohirrim kicks his horse and it starts to run away. His eyes widen. He still does not know the rider's name. And right now, he wants to learn it. With the rider moving away, he only has one option left.
"Wait, rider. I do not know your name."
"My name is Erkenbrand, steward Denethor. I am the lord of the Westfold."
He nods and allows Erkenbrand to ride away. There is nothing left for him to do regarding the prisoners. They are now the full responsibility of the Rohirrim. The cavalrymen, who were riding away, now turn around and return to the cavalry. He watches them for a moment before turning his eyes back to the fields.
He sees the dead orcs, Haradrim, and other beasts lying on the field. Among them lie dead Rohirrim and Gondorians. As well as the wounded. Realizing this, he knows what takes priority here; the wounded. They are in dire need of care. So he turns around facing the cavalry.
"Take the wounded to the houses of healing and gather the deceased to be buried. Give them the care they deserve. As for the corpses of our enemies, burn them. While you gather them in piles, take any valuables you can find and bring them to the city.
What he will do with those valuables, he does not say. There is no need to have anyone taking something for themselves. Or for them to take everything for themselves. The men in the city also deserve their share of the valuables. With his orders, he is confident he can give them some of it. His orders were clear. He knows the cavalry will not disobey.
As he thinks of the city, he remembers how much there is to be taken care of there. The rubble from the destroyed houses needs to be cleared away. The city cleaned up so living there will be possible once more. Even if it will not be comfortable. It will be a necessary sacrifice for the men to make. They can start to rebuild the city at a later time. Such as when there is no longer any immediate threat.
But besides the buildings in the city, food also needs to be distributed. All of this on top of the matters on the field. He knows he cannot oversee this all by himself. He needs to start to delegate these duties. A task he does not like but is a sacrifice he needs to make.
"Imrahil!"
"Yes, Lord Denethor?"
He follows the direction of Imrahil's voice. Imrahil has moved a bit away from him with the cavalry. The cavalrymen are busy conducting their orders. Only Imrahil still sits on his horse looking at him with a frown. He must be wondering why he was stopped. Well, it would be best for him to save Imrahil wondering.
"I need you to oversee the cavalry while they follow their orders. If possible ensure the fields are cleaned up. It will have to be done one time so it is better to start early."
"If possible indeed. I do not think the men will have much time for cleaning the fields. They are exhausted. Following your orders will already be a challenge for them."
"Yes, of course. You make the call when the men can take their rest. I will ensure houses are cleared for their use."
"Of course. Will you visit Faramir?"
"Of course, I will. Why would you think I would not visit my son. The city is finally safe so all I need to do is ensure the city is taken care of. Then I can finally visit Faramir and stay with him for as long as I want."
He nods to Erkenbrand and leaves. As he rides back to the city, he heard trembling behind him. Hooves rush over the ground. His guards must be following closely behind him. He thinks about everything he needs to do and sighs. As if he did not have enough work to do already. Now he needs to ensure houses are cleared for the men to sleep in. All because he promised Imrahil to do so. It was not something he thought about before.
Besides this, he also needs to find the time to visit Faramir. Something he would do regardless. But with everything he has to do, how will he find the time? He does know. With everything that needs to be done in the city, he has his hands full. He begins to doubts he will find time to visit Faramir anytime soon.
Moments later, he rides into the first level and looks at the damage which can be seen. Nearly all the buildings are damaged in some way. Most are even destroyed. Those that are not, have walls or pieces of the roof missing. Rebuilding will take a lot of time. Something he does not look forward to considering what he knows of the poor. Within a few days, they will have claimed the first level as theirs.
Looking at the streets, he is met with a lot of rubble. Some streets are completely covered; they are inaccessible. Beneath the rubble, limbs can be seen unmoving. From the accessible streets, moaning can be heard. The full extent of the damage becomes clear to him now. As well as the full extent of the wounded.
First level, Minas Tirith
He takes a deep breath knowing he will need to repeat his order; only this time in the city. And like on the fields, he cannot oversee everything. He needs to appoint someone to take care of the city. If he does not then he will be unable to visit Faramir either today or tomorrow. Maybe even longer. He knows if he needs to give the order if he wants to have a chance of visiting Faramir within the coming hours.
Looking around the first level once more, he sees how soldiers are running around. No one seems to have anything in mind. They run around like headless chickens. He sighs. Where is captain Mendear? He should be keeping an eye on everyone. He should be ensuring that there is some order here. He sighs deeply before walking around the first level. This is the only way he can think off to find captain Mendear.
Walking around the first level, he sees the amount of damage which was hidden from his sight. The damage is not much different from what he sees. The only difference is between the buildings. Everything else is the same. But as he walks, he sees how the officers are aiding in the headless shuffle. He sighs feeling his irritation grow. Really, he should not have appointed Mendear as captain. Not now.
Just as he thinks this, he sees Mendear talking to an officer. Is he really giving orders? He hopes so. He slowly walks towards Mendear. Mendear seems ignorant of his approach though the officer notices him. The officer quickly straightens and Mendear tilts his head. Denethor can imagine the frown appearing on Mendear's face when the officer hurriedly cleans his armor.
He laughs for he knows this to be a useless action. The officer's face grows red. Mendear turns his head towards him. Mendear's eyes widen and he straightens. So, Mendear missed his approach. Well, he will excuse him as he seemed deep in conversation with the officer.
"My lord, to what do I owe this visit?"
"I came to see how you are managing, captain Mendear. I have seen the first level. I am sure you have to. So why have you not started with the cleanup yet?"
"I do not know, my lord. I was busy checking on the men. I wanted to know how many survived..."
"And?"
Mendear scratches the back of his neck and looks away. He frowns. What has Mendear so upset? Or does he want to hide something? He tilts his head and taps his finger on his leg. He will wait for a moment. Maybe Mendear will then tell him on his own. But if he does not answer soon then he will force it out of him.
"Well, more men survived than I had expected. I have been trying to get an overview of who survived and who died."
"And how have you been doing that?"
"Oh, that is simple. I went through the first level and checked the areas. Some had more deceased than others. I imagine the fighting was more severe there. So far I have a few areas left to check."
He watches the smile on Mendear's face as he talks. When it appeared, he already suspected that he would receive a good answer. Or at least an answer which will not be too bad to receive. And with the answer he received, he can work. Mendear has given him a way to get his orders done. And then without upsetting Mendear too much. Not that would have minded had he to do that.
"Well, you should tell your officers to do that for you."
"Of course, my lord. What should I do then?"
"You should see to it that the wounded are taken to the houses of healing if you have not been doing that already. The same counts for the deceased; See to it that they are gathered to be buried if you have not yet done that. Afterward, you really should be with the cleanup of your level. Clear away the destroyed houses and free the streets from the rubble."
"Of course, my lord. I will see to it. But what about the exhausted men? They should rest."
Mendear frowns. Denethor can barely hide the sigh which wants to escape him. Reall, Mendear? He should know that. Every captain knows the exhausted men should rest. They all should have a plan available. So why does it appear Mendear does not? He frowns. Is Mendear aiming for something else? Only one way to find out.
"Of course, they should rest. You know that, right? Just do it without hampering the work which needs to be done."
"I do know that. But where should I send them? A specific location or somewhere in general?"
Ah, so that is what Mendear was aiming for. It is an understandable worry. But also one Mendear should have prepared for. The other captains, he suspects, will have areas already dedicated for resting. All he needs to do now is ensure there is enough space. And by that, he means the houses from the third level and up. Those, he suspects, are the least damaged.
Mendear is biting his lips. He should tell him his plan which he does moments later.
"I will make houses from the third level and up available for them to use. Just know that the cavalry will make use of those houses also."
"Of course, my lord. Is there anything you need of me?"
"No, there is not."
"Then if you excuse me, I have work to do."
Denethor nods and turns away. But as he does so his mind turns to Faramir. How is Faramir doing? How has he been doing? He nearly bites his lips but manages to stop himself. No one needs to know how anxious he is. Anxious to know how his son has been doing. He needs to check on Faramir.
Making his mind up, he walks towards the gate of the second level. He will visit Faramir right now. He will not wait longer. The city can handle itself. The city? He sighs completely forgetting he only gave his orders to captain Mendear. The other captains need to receive their orders. But how will he do that without someone overseeing everything in the city?
Simple, he will not. Considering every captain in the city, he dismisses the option to put one of them in charge. That will not work. Only he can oversee everything. At least until he has found someone who can oversee everything. Checking on Faramir will have to wait. No matter how much he dislikes it.
Walking through the levels, he visits every captain and gives them the orders they need. Visiting eases some of his worries. They have been managing better than Captain Mendear. But then they have more experience; they will know what to do. He knows he needs to finish as soon as he can. And as soon as he finds someone to oversee everything. Someone he has not yet found. But someone he needs to find if he wants to visit Faramir anytime soon.
Despite his need to visit Faramir, he gives orders whenever necessary. It are mostly officers and warriors who receive his orders. All caused by their slacking or headless running. He just knows they need their orders for the city to re over from the siege. And it keeps him busy for quite some time. When he finally looks up, he sees the sun will soon set.
"Denethor?"
He turns around. Imrahil stands next to him with a worried expression. What is he doing here? He should be overseeing the fields. Not here in the city. He frowns before speaking up.
"Yes, Imrahil. What are you doing here?"
"I came to see if I could be of any aid here. The fields are well managed by Elfhelm who has sent Éomer to the houses of healing."
"Éomer? Like the marshal Éomer? Nephew of King Theoden?"
"Yes, that Éomer. From what I have learned his sister managed to travel with the host without anyone noticing and got wounded during the battle. They are now bringing her to the houses of healing. Or she is already there, I do not know. But I know Éomer will not be far from her considering his reaction to her discovery."
He nods. It is entirely understandable he is worried about his sister. But then, how did she manage to sneak into the host? A question, everyone wants answers to. He frowns when he thinks of Theoden. Theoden has a son, Theodred, who would want to be with his niece at this time. Especially, as they grew up together. Or at least, Theodred had seen Éowyn grow up. So why would he not be with her now?
"What about Theodred?"
"I do not know what happened to Theodred. He was not with the host. All I managed to learn is that he was killed not too long ago. But I do not know the details of his death."
"Mhhh."
So Éomer is the one who was in charge. He holds the highest rank among the Rohirrim. And with Theodred's death, Éomer will be the king of Rohan. Crowned or not. He sighs. Now he needs to visit king Éomer before he can visit Faramir.
"Go to the houses, Denethor. I can manage here just fine. You need to be with your son."
He frowns. Shall he do it? He takes a step and falters. Why does he worry? Imrahil will know what to do. He wants to be with Faramir. This is the best opportunity he has for Faramir. He shakes his head and looks at Imrahil. He is met with a reassuring smile.
"Denethor, do not worry. I will have the city under control. Nothing will go wrong. Go!"
What should he do? What could possibly go wrong with Imrahil in charge? He knows; nothing. Imrahil is more than capable of handling it. So where do his mixed feelings about Imrahil's offer Imrahil come from? He looks to the floor. He can only decide once he has sorted out his mixed feelings.
On one part, he feels confused. What his desire to check on Faramir that obvious? He does not think so. If Imrahil knows his feelings then he must know him well. Something which he knows is true. On another note, Imrahil might also have worked on his own feelings were he in this situation. Which one is more likely, he does not know. What he knows is that his confusion flows away.
Another part of him is pleased. The pressure to look after the city is taken from his shoulders. He no longer has to juggle his need to look after the city with his desire to check on Faramir. He can focus on what is most important to him. Still no matter his feelings, he needs to decide what he will do. Will he accept the offer? Or will he deny it?
Everything within him tells him to accept it. If he does then he will be able to check on Faramir. Just as he wants to do ever since the battle ended. So, what will he do? Imrahil can handle this, he knows that. As such, it does not take him long before he has an answer; he will accept the offer.
"If you say so, Imrahil. I will leave you to it then while I go check on Faramir. You know where to find me if you need me for anything?"
"Yes, I know where to find you. Not that I think I will need you anytime soon. Now, go!"
Imrahil waves with his hands and smiles. Denethor nods and smiles back. Imrahil is more than capable to look after the city. Now, he can finally check on Faramir. He will finally learn how Faramir has been doing; if he has been recovering.
Houses of healing
Arriving at the houses of healing, he looks to the sky. The sky is darkening while the sun goes over the horizon. The moon is slightly visible in the sky. So far, no stars are visible. Still, it makes it clear what the time is. Has he been busy for such a long time? He does not believe it but the facts are different. But then, he has to admit he never paid much attention to the time while he was busy.
He shakes his head. The time is of no importance right now. He needs to know how Faramir is doing. And to do that, he needs master Neston, the warden. He is certain master Neston is in charge of Faramir's care. So where is he? Looking around, a flurry of activity greets him. Healers run around. Some with robes drenched in blood. Others only have drops of blood on them. Among the healers, warriors run around. Most still wear their armor and sword. He turns his head away from some; they reek of sweat. Some have shed their armor and run around in tunics drenched in sweat.
Regardless of this, he not only sees people who were exposed to the battle. Servants run among the warriors and healers. Clearly, they have been making good use of their lack of duties. There is one maid who comes close to him. Closer than others. He grabs her arm tight stopping her in her tracks.
"My lord?"
"Summon the warden. I need to speak with him. And take me to my son."
"Of course, my lord. I know the warden is currently busy. So if it is not urgent would you mind waiting. I will inform him of your request."
He narrows his eyes. She has failed to react to one of his orders. Has she forgotten? He hopes not. But he also does not want to stress her too much. She is already shuffling around while playing with her skirt.
"I do not know where captain Faramir is right now. I am not involved in his care. In fact, I do not know the names of most people in the houses."
He bites his lip not liking the implications. At the same time, he is not really surprised. He expected the houses to be busy considering the battle. In fact, the houses are often already busy when there is not battle outside the city. Considering the battle and amount of wounded, he knows the healers have their hands full. It will not do for him to keep the warden from doing his duty. He wants to visit Faramir but he can wait a bit to learn about Faramir's recovery.
"Inform the warden about my request. It is not urgent for me to meet with him but I would like to visit Faramir soon."
"Yes, my lord. I will inform the warden. I will also seek out where your son is and take you to him as soon as I know."
He nods still not knowing the maid's name. She looks at him for a few moments before walking away into the houses. He shuffles and looks at the entrance. He hopes she will be back soon. He needs to visit his son. He should have never claimed that it was not urgent for him to visit Faramir. But thinking about Faramir; how will he be doing? The maid did not say anything but then she will not know it.
He sighs. What will he do now? Walk around the houses searching for Faramir? it might be an idea but it comes with a risk. If men see him then he will need to talk to them too. If only for a little while. No, he will not do it. Just as he thinks about it, he remembers King Éomer. He remembers his realization for him to visit king Éomer and his sister. With that in mind, he walks towards the houses. And at that time, a guard walks out. Denethor sees an opportunity when it presents itself.
"Do you know where my son is?"
"I do not know, my lord."
The guard shuffles around while looking everywhere but at him. He narrows his eyes. He highly doubts the guard's words. Words which annoy him to no end. Still, the guard needs to answer. It is clear he wants to leave but he refuses to allow it. Not until he has gotten the answers he seeks.
"Do you know? Is there anything you know?"
"Well? I know he was carried into the noble wing. I do not know which room, I am afraid."
"Any specific area of the wing that you know of?"
"I do know for sure but I know he was not taken far into the wing."
He nods; this is information he can work with. It gives him an idea of where to start looking. Well, only if master Neston has not shown when he has visited King Éomer. The guard looks at him for a moment before hurrying away. He nearly runs. Denethor has to smile. If it was not obvious before it is now; the guard needs to be somewhere.
Walking into the houses of healing, he walks around aimlessly for some time. He talks with those few men he encounters and who are not in a hurry. In time, he encounters the Rohirrim. They pay him no attention but he pays them attention. He follows them in silence. Only the sound of boots hitting the stone can be heard. Just like the sound of breathing. Something which comes in different shapes; from labored to calm. The breathing reflects the way the Rohirrim walk; some walk pained while others walk with strong strides.
Soon, he sees the Rohirrim entering a wing of the houses. He is close behind them in entering the wing. Once there, he looks around. All around him, Rohirrim lie on stretchers. He slowly becomes aware of the moaning in the wing. He looks closely at those he can see; they have all bandages on them. Around them, Rohirrim walk, talk, and care for them. He smiles. The scene is like a balm for his soul.
Looking up, he looks further into the wing. He wants to know if king Éomer is here with his sister. In the distance, he can see someone sitting. Narrowing his eyes, he tries to get a better look at him before approaching. A shoulder smashes into him. He hisses and turns. A young Rohirrim stands before him with wide eyes. He opens his mouth to speak but the Rohirrim quickly runs away. He sighs. He really scared the young man.
Turning his attention back to the man he saw earlier, he looks more carefully at him. The man appears to be wearing armor. He is broad-shouldered and has golden hair. The man has one arm around a bent knee on which he rests his head. Denethor tilts his head; he cannot see the man's eyes.
Around the man, other Rohirrim stand as if on guard. Before the man, a stretcher stands. Who is on it, he cannot see from the distance. At least not for sure but the outline clearly hints at a woman. Could this be King Éomer and his sister? Denethor hopes so.
Walking towards the man, Denethor becomes aware of the staring. Rohirrim follow his movements. Whispering breaks out around him. A few Rohirrim run out of the wing; others run towards the man. Denethor struggles to hide a smile of amusement; he is clearly an interesting appearance to these Rohirrim.
Nearing the man, a Rohirrim touches his shoulder. The man looks up and talks with the Rohirrim. What they are saying, Denethor is not sure about. He can understand a few words but not everything. Despite this, Denethor immediately recognizes the man as King Éomer.
He smiles and looks down onto the stretcher. On the stretcher lies a woman who bears a striking resemblance to King Éomer; this is clearly princess Éowyn. Her face is deadly pale. It is even worse than Faramir's complexion when he last saw his son. Do they suffer from the same thing?
"Lord Denethor, what are you doing here?"
"King Éomer, it is good to see you again. I came to pay my respects to your sister. I heard she was found on the fields wounded."
"Yes, she was. I do not know how she managed to come along. Uncle did not want her here; he wanted her home."
"Mhh. How is she doing, king Éomer?"
King Éomer tilts his head. The worry he saw earlier increases. It does not promise anything good but he wants the answers. King Éomer mentions with his hands. He hears the guards moving away giving them room to talk without being overheard. Once the guards are far enough away, king Éomer speaks up.
"Éowyn is not doing well, my lord. We all fear she is dying."
He sees the tears gathering in the corners of king Éomer's eyes. The tightness in his voice is clearly noticeable. He feels for the king. Similar feelings crawl up within him in regards to Faramir. He looks down and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. It will not do for anyone to notice his distress. Once he feels like he is in control he looks up.
"Let us hope for a miracle then. A hero like your sister deserves to survive the end of this war."
"Yes, she does deserve that. Might I ask how your son is doing?"
"You may ask. I unfortunately do not have any good news. Last I saw my son he was in a bad shape. But how he is now I do not know. Before joining the battle, I had him send here. As such, the warden will know how Faramir is doing."
King Éomer nods and tilts his head while frowning. Following his gaze, Denethor realizes king Éomer is looking behind him. He turns his head to see what caught the king's attention. The maiden from before walks towards him. Has she knowledge about Faramir's location? Or does she have a message from Master Neston? He hopes it is at least the last for then he will know when the warden has time for him. Once the maiden reaches him, she bows to him.
"My lord? The warden asks if you would wait for him. He will be with as soon as possible and personally take you to captain Faramir."